With all the precautions and risks that accompany sex today, it sounds about as much fun as walking through a minefield.

Housework is a treadmill from futility to oblivion with stop-offs at tedium and counter productivity.

Some emotions don't make a lot of noise. It's hard to hear pride. Caring is real faint - like a heartbeat. And pure love - why, some days it's so quiet, you don't even know it's there.

When they told me I needed a mastectomy, I thought of the thousands of luncheons and dinners I had attended where they slapped a name tag on my left bosom. I always smiled and said, 'Now, what shall we name the other one?' That would no longer be a problem.

Family life got better and we got our car back - as soon as we put 'I love Mom' on the license plate.

My sister and I never engaged in sibling rivalry. Our parents weren't that crazy about either one of us.

I've always been intrigued with the variety of answers this generation will give their children who ask, "Where did I come from, Mommy?" They will range from "Number 176 vial in Buffalo, New York," to "You were defrosted."